I don't mean to brag or anything, and I'm sure you ladies out there have already guessed (and you guys too, what the hell), but I have to give a shout-out now....
SERGEI IS ONE HELLOVA GREAT LOVER!
Not to embarrass Sergei or anything. And how could that embarrass a guy, anyhow? Hell, isn't that something to show to yer friends! "My woman says I'm a great lay! See! I tol' ya!"
My beloved, darling hunk of man-meat gave it to me this morning. Again. And again. And yet again (I had to ask him at one point if he'd taken Viagra, 'cause...DAMN!!!!). I don't know what I did to deserve such a lovely, shuddering time, but I'm not questioning it! And we could have kept going if it weren't for the fact that we had to go to work...and the kids were threatening to wake up and come check us to see if the screaming meant someone was hurt.
Y'know those endorphins that are released during sex? The ones that make you glow? And give you that shitty grin all day? And make the smell of sex just ooze outta every pore? Yeah. I'm feeling it. I'm a cloud of it, I'm relaxed and happy and squishy (still), I'm a buzzed ball of calm and feel all fuzzy inside. (and just a bit fuzzy outside, but looking forward to a Brazilian wax...!)
One of the blogs I read every day is by a musician outta New York. He's not a MAJOR star, but he's major in the college-music sort of way. I dig him a lot. In his post yesterday, he mentioned that he'd broken up with his significant other and was feeling blue. And I felt blue for him. 'Cause even though he could probably get sex whenever he wanted it with who/whomever he wanted, there's just something about fucking someone you really like, or love, or are infatuated with, or whatever, that makes it so much better. You let go more. And if you're really into them and them into you, you can talk afterwards and before, and cook some breakfast, and not have those freezing silences where you don't know what to say after you just barked like a dog for them, and went 'round the world.
I don't comment on the musician's blog, I don't email him, I'd feel like some groupie (okay, shoot me, I AM a groupie, but a lurker). But I just wanna tell him to chill out, find a cool chick, find a Suicide Girl, chat up the waitress, find someone who makes you feel good, that you can talk to, who can have a conversation about Louis Armstrong or Akira Kurosawa, or romance languages or good Thai food, and nurture that. THEN fuck her brains out, but good! And get a few tips from Sergei, 'cause even after 10 years of marriage...OH MY GOD!!!! Can I get an Amen, someone??!